


Jersey

by aintitnifty



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Jersey Porn, M/M, Yep It's A Thing, domestic idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:26:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1228081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aintitnifty/pseuds/aintitnifty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my god,” Kagami says, and he’s grinning now, a sleepy, shit-eating grin. “This is a thing for you, isn’t it?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jersey

**Author's Note:**

> oops.

It’s a Saturday morning and neither of them have anywhere to go, but Aomine finds himself waking up early, blinking into one of the few rays of sunlight that manages to peek through Kagami’s blinds. He draws in a deep breath and stretches beneath the blankets, trying not to disturb the large, warm body at his side, then plucks his cell phone from the windowsill and checks the time.

Just past seven.

With a sigh, he replaces the phone and flips onto his back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. Normally he would just roll over and go back to sleep, but last night he crashed as soon as he got home from practice, which means he’s already gotten a solid nine hours.

He lets out a breath and glances to his left. Kagami turned his back to him sometime during the night, and all Aomine can see above the blankets is the back of his head, red hair sleep-mussed and sticking up in strange places. Aomine raises himself onto his elbows and leans over, peering down into Kagami’s sleeping face. His face is slack, his lips parted, and Aomine just watches him for a moment, listens to his long, even breaths.

Then Aomine leans down to press a brief, light kiss to Kagami’s temple—it’s early, it’s a weekend, and no one else is there, he can have a moment of sentimentality if he wants to, damnit—then carefully extricates himself from the blankets and climbs out of bed.

The morning air is chilly against his bare skin. He stoops to grab some sweatpants from the floor—turns out they’re Kagami’s; the worn grey material sits a little too low on his hips—and then pads down the hall and into the bathroom. He stares at his face in the mirror, ignoring the stupid little smile that won't seem to go away whenever he looks into this particular mirror, then leans down and splashes some cool water on his cheeks.

He heads into the kitchen next, thinking about breakfast, wishing faintly that Kagami would wake up and cook for him. He could really go for some eggs right now.

He’s staring blankly into the refrigerator when he hears footsteps in the hall, and he smirks and turns to face Kagami.

“Oi, you’re just in time to make me breakfast,” he says, or at least, that’s what he was planning to say. Instead, the words get stuck in his throat, because Kagami is still sleepy-eyed and messy-haired and wearing only boxers and—Aomine chokes—Aomine’s Touou jersey.

“What?” Kagami grouses when he notices Aomine staring. Then he looks down at what he’s wearing and flushes a comely scarlet, all the way from his collarbones to his cheeks. “Oh. Shit. It was dark in the room, I thought this was mine. Sorry. I’ll go cha—”

“Wait,” Aomine says, and his voice does _not_ break, really, it doesn’t. He closes the refrigerator door and moves toward Kagami, his eyes never moving from the scarlet five emblazoned on Kagami’s stomach. “Leave it on.”

“Oh my god,” Kagami says, and he’s grinning now, a sleepy, shit-eating grin, and Aomine wants nothing more than to kiss it away. “This is a thing for you, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Aomine says, and then he’s right on top of Kagami, pressing him firmly against the wall, one hand on Kagami’s shoulder, the other already sliding beneath the hem of his jersey, fingers gently tracing firm muscle. Aomine feels Kagami shiver at the touch, and this time it’s Aomine’s turn to grin. “So what if it is?”

“It’s a little early, don’t you think?” Kagami says, but his hands are already on Aomine’s hips, his grip hot and firm, and he leans into the touch when Aomine slides his hand from Kagami’s shoulder to his neck.

“Just go with it,” Aomine breathes, his lips brushing Kagami’s jaw, and then he tilts his head and kisses Kagami hard, barely caring that they both probably have morning breath, that he could still use some breakfast soon, because Kagami’s tongue is in his mouth and Kagami’s hands are squeezing his ass and he can already feel Kagami getting hard against him.

Aomine rocks forward and Kagami groans into his mouth.

“Jeez, eager much?” Kagami says, and Aomine lets out a little laugh, reaching down to cup Kagami through his boxers.

“You’re one to talk,” he says, running a thumb over the head of Kagami’s cock, and Kagami grins and leans forward to kiss Aomine again. Kagami’s right hand slips from Aomine’s ass to fumble between them, and Aomine feels long fingers cover his own where he’s still gripping Kagami’s cock.

“Wait a sec,” Kagami says against Aomine’s mouth, and Aomine reluctantly loosens his grip so Kagami can slide his boxers down around his thighs, shimmying slightly to get them down. Aomine is breathing hard, eager to get his hands back on Kagami, but then Kagami grips his own erection through Aomine’s jersey, and he starts stroking himself, long fingers curling against black fabric.

Aomine’s mouth is dry. He drags his gaze away from Kagami’s hand and finds Kagami staring at him, open-mouthed, his gaze a little hazy. Kagami’s lips quirk into a smirk, and Aomine hooks his hands behind Kagami’s neck, dragging him into a fierce, messy kiss.

“I’m gonna have to wash that now, you asshole,” he growls against Kagami’s mouth, teeth tugging lightly at Kagami’s bottom lip.

“You wore it for practice yesterday,” Kagami says in a rough voice, and Aomine huffs at the way Kagami’s voice hitches as he works himself. “It already reeks.”

“You love it,” Aomine says, pressing his lips to Kagami’s throat, and Kagami arches his neck, letting his head thud against the wall.

“Well yeah,” he breathes, just like that, and Aomine bites down, because _fuck_ , that’s just not even fair.

“Fine,” he says, still sucking kisses along the line of Kagami’s throat, “but you’re doing the laundry.” And Kagami lets out a wrecked laugh.

“Deal.”

Aomine groans and shoves himself against Kagami, pressing his own erection against Kagami’s hip and rocking hard, sending heat shooting straight through his spine. Within seconds Kagami has his hand down Aomine’s sweatpants, gripping him firmly, his fist hot and tight and just this side of rough, but Aomine arches into it and leans in to capture Kagami’s mouth in another sloppy kiss, too much tongue, their breath heavy between them. Aomine curls a hand into Kagami’s hair, yanking a little. He can feel Kagami’s fist pumping, can feel Kagami’s knuckles brushing against Aomine’s bare stomach as he works himself through Aomine’s jersey. Kagami’s breaths are getting shorter, catching on eager little sounds as he gets close, and the hand around Aomine’s cock stutters as Kagami’s concentration starts to waver.

Aomine reaches down with one hand and moves Kagami’s shaking hands, lifting them slightly, gently urging, until Kagami gets the idea and wraps his arms around Aomine’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of Aomine’s neck, his breath hot against Aomine’s skin.

Aomine takes them both in one hand, shivering at the sensation of the slick material of his jersey between his own erection and Kagami’s. He starts stroking slowly, working the material between them, biting his lip hard.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kagami moans into Aomine’s neck, and Aomine lets out a little snort; sex is the only time Kagami ever drops the f-bomb. Aomine finds it adorable.

“That’s the idea,” he says, another little tradition, and Kagami pinches him, but then Aomine twists his wrist and Kagami’s breath hitches and he lets out this little cry and Aomine feels warmth spreading over his hand, and it’s on his jersey, Kagami just _came_ on his _jersey_ , and that’s enough to push him over the edge, and he clutches at Kagami’s back as he jerks into release, gasping hard, shaking all over.

They lean against each other for a few moments after, both breathing heavily, letting themselves even out. Kagami is still wrapped around Aomine, and Aomine has his face pressed into Kagami’s hair. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, enjoying the afterglow.

“So jerseys,” Kagami says against Aomine’s neck, his voice muffled and amused.

“Not just jerseys, idiot,” Aomine says. “It’s not like I get a hard-on every time I’m on the court. It’s just you. In mine.”

“It’s a thing.”

“Apparently.”

“Good to know.” Kagami sighs and pulls away, but not without first pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Aomine’s mouth. “Good morning,” he says in a low voice, smiling, and Aomine just has to hook a hand behind his neck and tug him in for another kiss, warm and firm.

“Good morning,” he says, grinning at the dazed look in Kagami’s eyes when he pulls away. “Breakfast?”

“Shower first,” Kagami says, tugging his boxers back up and stepping away, and Aomine tries not to pout. “And apparently I need to start a load of laundry,” Kagami calls over his shoulder as he heads down the hall toward the bathroom.

“And breakfast after?” Aomine calls after him.

“And breakfast after,” Kagami agrees, smiling at him from just inside the bathroom, and then the door closes.

Aomine slumps against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He glances at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. 7:30. Aomine laughs, tugs the sweatpants back into some semblance of order, and settles in to wait for Kagami to vacate the bathroom.

Altogether, not a bad start to the day.


End file.
